


Jaune Journal

by NotSoConspicuous



Category: RWBY
Genre: Jaune Arc-centric, Payday 2, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoConspicuous/pseuds/NotSoConspicuous
Summary: I need to reign in some ideas, each chapter will be one of my rogue ideas that need to be put to the page before I'm satisfied. It will be mostly Jaune stories because the blond noodle is probably the easiest character to write into multiple settings/scenarios. But hey, each character will probably have the spotlight at one point or another. Should someone express in a comment that they would like to see any of the chapters be turned into an independent series, it will most likely happen. Sometimes if I really like a concept I might just turn it into a series regardless of the comments.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. The Difficulty Tweak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Vol 7, none of the main cast has changed.

Teams RWBY and JNR were winding down.

They stood in the empty, windy streets of Mantle. The foul smell of dead grimm still lingered in the cold air, enough to make any normal person's gag reflex trigger. The sounds of alarms still echoed through their minds and the night. Everyone was nervous.

Despite having just repelled a wave of sabyrs, they did just infiltrate the most militarily advanced nation on Remnant. At least everyone on team JNR seemed blissfully ignorant of the ramifications of their uninvited entry, but that only served to unsettle Blake more. What was the plan here? Were they really supposed to march up to a disheveled and paranoid general, present their farm child with an immortal wizard trapped inside, and try to throw their hat in the ring to settle the world's most destructive divorce case?

The only option they had was to keep moving. Blake's guarded watch dissolved as she looked over to her partner, Yang mustered up a small smile. The two of them had a confusing relationship to put it lightly, born in a crucible of a common enemy and shared trauma. Neither of them really had time previously to hash out _exactly_ what their relationship was. Hopefully they'd be able to talk later once team RWBY was off the streets and somewhere more private. All they had to do was make sure there was no more grimm.

On cue, Blake's advanced faunus hearing picked up something nearby. A metal grate was being pushed open behind a set of cars. However unlikely it was, Blake didn't want to find out the hard way that some grimm had gotten into the sewers.

Signalling her team, all four huntresses raised their weapons. They stalked their way past a row of automobiles and over to the now wide open sewer grate. Suddenly, Ruby decided to peak into the manhole with her gun...

...

...

...

A hand flew up to grab her by the collar, dragging her down into the dark depths below. Immediate chaos took place, noises everywhere as glowing green eyes and high pitched, demonic, telephonic screeching assaulted the poor faunus's senses. Everything was moving so fast that she couldn't keep track. Black figures with night vision goggles popped out from every conceivable blind spot. The monster men flew through the air as they downed their friends with crushing drop kicks, pinning them down and wailing on them with batons.

Her partner fell to the same fate in what seemed like less than half a second, one having gotten the jump on her by crawling out from under a car. The man taunted her as he beat her into the pavement with his baton.

"I got your relic right fucking here!"

Blake took a shot with Gambol Shroud before she heard the devil's telephone and was suddenly on the ground. Someone's boots had crashed into the side of her jaws. Blake started feeling what her partner had felt, the swings threatening to shatter her consciousness. Alas, before her vision went black, she plucked out of the screaming and mayhem _one thing_.

"You call this resisting arrest?"

**"We call this a _difficulty tweak!"_**

* * *

**Yeah if I didn't make this expressly clear, the Jaune Journal is for me to experiment and get opinions on ideas. It's a collection of one shots, so suggestions and comments of every breed and class are more than welcome.**


	2. The Partisan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Jaune chapter of many for the Jaune Journal.

**I really _want_ to make this into a full series, but that would be irresponsible. I'm only making this a series if people want me to.**

* * *

It was a pleasant Summer morning on Solitas. Before dawn, a man and his son had set out to provide for the family from their remote home in uncivilized woods. They had on their boots, heavy coats, tight gloves, and tweed caps with ear flaps above more layers of clothing to protect them from the cold. The two found their spot around 5:00 AM, a small hill looking out onto a small clearing. This was all surrounded by tall birch trees that seemed to extend forever into the distance, not another human in sight.

They set down some bait in the middle of the clearing and climbed back to the top of the hill. The father took out an old hunting rifle he had slung over his shoulder and laid down prone in the snow with his son. He reviewed the proper prone position with his boy, before the man tightened the sling around his upper arm.

They waited until dawn, hoping to shoot a fox or any number of snowy scavengers. The sling of the rifle was so tight around the man's arm it threatened to cut off circulation, but, as a seasoned huntsman, he ignored it. He struggled to focus on anything other than the environment and his own breathing, seeing as there were no violent winds blowing on his face. It was, after all, a perfect day to go hunting.

Unfortunately, they would be hunting a different breed of animal that day.

The crunching of snow immediately alerted the two blonds. The father pulled back the bolt on the rifle and loaded a .308 round, his finger still off the trigger. The huntsman quickly caught sight of the target and froze.

If the grimm mask didn't give it away, the three red claw marks on the top left of her jacket most certainly did. Compounding the abnormal sighting, it seems this poor soldier in particular had not been issued the proper gear for traveling on Solitas.

The white fang soldier only wore standard issue and was lightly armed with a machine pistol. The soldier was visibly shivering in their sleeveless white jacket and black hood, her antlers poking out from the latter.

 _'That mongrel sealed its fate the moment it stepped into these woods'_ the man decided. He peered down his iron sights and quickly got an accurate enough sight picture.

"Tata?" the man's son whispered, "Who's that?"

The man took a deep breath... and squeezed the trigger.

She died, without a whisper.

He slid back the bolt and loaded another bullet. The man advanced slow and careful, his rifle aimed at the now motionless body that had painted the snow around it red. Examining the corpse, it was a clean shot, right through the temple.

He let out a small, dark chuckle, "Still got it." He fired off the shot into the soldier's head, just to make sure.

The man searched the soldier and found her orders, erasing any suspicions he might've had about her purpose. She was scouting out a place for a new encampment. The man knew of his home's preferable position, little to no grimm and with plenty of food. However, if this scout never returned it would send a clear message. After all, they didn't have the numbers or, evidently, the equipment to face _any_ resistance while making camp. Even less so considering the resistance would be a pissed off huntsman with perfect knowledge of the terrain and enough .308 ammo to face a small army. The man had pondered the ramifications of his actions enough, he had already made his decision when he put his finger on the trigger.

He turned to his son, his eyes wide as moons and his breathing faster than a locomotive. This was to be expected, the boy was only ten years old. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and went over to his son.

"Breathe moje dziecko, there is nothing to be afraid of. It is only an animal."

His words seemed to get to the child, but it wasn't helping as much as he would've liked. He held the kid in his arms, continuing to instruct him.

**"Breath in, count to four. Hold your breath, count to four. Exhale, count to four."**

"Breath in, count to four. Hold your breath, count to four. Exhale, count to four."

_"Breath in, count to four. Hold your breath, count to four. Exhale, count to four."_

* * *

Jaune awoke with a start, almost banging his head on the low, wooden ceiling. It was a reoccurring nightmare he'd been having, and a grim reminder of how he got into this situation in the first place. He was hyperventilating again.

_'Breath in, count to four. Hold your breath, count to four. Exhale, count to four.'_

Suddenly, he heard a terrifying clanking below his hiding place in the garret. It was a sound he had come to label as danger throughout years of experience on the frontiers.

The rhythmic marching of soldiers... following the scent of a human.

* * *

_**Seems the hunter has become the** **hunted.** _


	3. Disgraced Legate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was originally gonna post a chapter where Jaune was Dr. Coomer (Go watch HL:VR), but I fucked it up bad. So here's something else for ya.

**A seemingly inconsequential action, leads to the birth of a being that is destined to make history.**

* * *

Hidden inside a mountain in Anima, a horrible tribe of cultists known as the Hidebarks festered.

After a decade of work, they had done the unthinkable. The fanatics had gathered under one charismatic war chief, and gathered the unholy essence of every monster they could find.

Their creation was to be perfect. It was to have many monstrous characteristics, but two were specifically important to the success of the tribe. The key traits being its human intelligence, and its authority over monsters granted to it by the essence of a wyvern.

The only thing needed, was the right candidate to give birth to such a vile being.

So the war chief sent out scouts to find the best woman to give birth to their new weapon, their savior. The freaks would soon find out that neither the woman nor the cult would survive the monster.

Thus, a son was born. In a mere three weeks he fully matured to the desired size, towering over those around him at eight feet and possessing the strength of an ursa.

Soon enough the demands of the tribe became too much, he rebelled against his creators and his birth mother. After he had struck down his only family with long claws and personally broken them in-between his jaws, he left them bleeding out in their mountainous tomb. In the end, he would be the only proof the tribe had existed in the first place.

Leaving the mountain base, he was soon met with utter rejection by humanity because of his haunting appearance and unnatural abilities. However, the son of the monsters would always have the last laugh.

It didn't take long for people to notice towns being wiped off the map, even if there were never any survivors to tell the tale of a certain location's destruction.

Whether they be explorer, local militia, average soldier, patrolling huntsman, army officer, or even headmaster of an academy, his actions did not escape the eyes of the world. Chief among these observers, however, was _Her_.

Soon She stopped being a spectator, meeting with the monster to recruit him as a soldier for Her cause.

He jumped at the chance to join her ranks, her offer of great knowledge being secondary to the acceptance he craved. Hearing Her story only made him more convinced of Her cause, leading him to take on the position of legate.

For Her he donned the mask, leading armies of darkness into battle after battle with the authority of one, glowing, red eye. He was no great symbol to humans or faunus, seeing as everyone who encountered him would not return to tell the tale. Even when ordered against the silver eyed warriors he prevailed, culling most of them himself to Her immense satisfaction. Unfortunately for Her, She would cause her own legate to become disillusioned with the cause when She ordered him to march on Kuroyuri.

It was anything but a target of military value, his distaste for needless slaughter only now revealing itself to him.

Yet he marched on, making great use of the Nuckelavee added to his forces, until he saw something that brought him great sorrow.

Two children hid away under the foundation of a house, only visible to him and the other followers accompanying him.

His subordinates, especially Tyrian, were all too ready to slaughter the children, but were stopped by the bestial legate. The first chance they got, the children escaped to safety.

An argument ensued and those under the legate, driven by envy and a lust for power, accused him of treason for his act of insubordination. The followers attacked the legate, but were forced to retreat after giving the beast a serious run for his money.

Her followers reported that the legate had died a traitor, but no one actually knows what happened to the beast... ~~except the beast and his new 'friends'.~~


	4. Draft Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in a modernish setting of the USA, around the time of the Vietnam War so 1960s - mid 1970s. Premise is Jaune Arc/Everyone.

Jaune Arc was on a mission.

He had just turned seventeen and it was the beginning of summer. This meant he had one year before he was vulnerable to the draft and he had one singular purpose in mind.

Fuck as many people as possible.

Close friends, friends of friends, acquaintances, someone he saw in the halls once, the sky was the limit and no one was safe from his horny campaign. The vast majority of the students in Beacon College Preparatory High School were female and he was going to capitalize on it.

His skills with women and his general charisma left something to be desired, but none of that mattered. He already had his first target marked and ready to go...

Pyrrha Nikos.

She had been giving him all sorts of suggestive gestures and he **swore** he wasn't crazy. She winked at him during a conversation once! That was _obviously_ eye-semaphore for 'come bang me'.

With a flimsy at best justification for his actions, he stuffed some pillows into his bed, opened up the window, climbed out, and started creeping towards the Nikos family household. It was only a couple of blocks away, so he arrived just in time to see his target's bedroom light shining through her window. The timing could not be more perfect. Pyrrha's father had been drafted to work in the rear in Nam and her mother had gone on one of her many _vacations_.

He was not eager to find out whether that last fact had anything to do with Mr. Nikos's absence.

Either way, he had his opportunity, and he would strike the iron while it was hot.

Striking a pose at the doorway, he leaned on the wall next to the door, put a rose in his teeth, and waited...

and waited...

and waited...

he forgot to ring the doorbell.

Correcting that error he once again waited with ever growing anxiety. The cold winds of the night blew against him, making him shiver a bit. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity until he heard footsteps coming ever closer along with a cry of, "Coming!"

 _"Oh more than one of us will be coming tonight if ya know what I mean"_ he imagined himself saying, before he heard the unlocking of a door on the other side.

The last thing he saw was a few seconds of a red door swinging directly at him before he was knocked out cold.

He had stood on the wrong side of the door, his last thought being...

_"God dammit."_

* * *

**Hope you fuckers enjoyed this little peek at what could be. If you want this to turn into an actual project than let me know in the comments, it would be good practice for writing smut. Until then, chao chao.**


	5. Advanced Jaunedice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: RWBY but Vietnam

**Warning: I don't think everything in this story will be accurate, but I'll try my best. There's some alternate history stuff I made up, but it's mostly a Vietnam War AU.**

* * *

First Lieutenant Jaune Arc was not happy with his new assignment.

From 1887 to 1954 France had held on to French Indochina. The French gave it their best shot, but eventually left the former colony after the Geneva Accords. The United States and South Vietnam, however, rejected the accords and never signed. This eventually escalated into the Vietnam War, of which France wanted no part in. The United States had a less than stellar response to France's decision.

The United States requested that France send a veteran officer that had cut their teeth fighting Vietnamese guerillas in the First Indochina War. The officer in question would fly over to South Vietnam, give a presentation to some fat ass colonels, do a little song and dance, and return home intact.

That was how the plan was _supposed to go_.

In reality the French knew that whoever they sent there would not be coming back, the Americans would do everything in their power to keep them from coming back. So they had all the experts make a presentation beforehand, task some unimportant nobody with memorizing it, and ship that guy over instead.

Twenty year-old Jaune Arc was _that guy_ , he was a diplomatic slap in the face...

and he was not coming back.

He'd heard stories from those who were there up until 1954. He heard stories of death, destruction, and even a surprise guest visit by about 5,000 former Imperial Japanese soldiers. It was hell.

This left him less than enthusiastic during his presentation, surrounded by the 'best and brightest' of the US officer corps. Almost immediately the US found out they had been duped, but kept him nonetheless out of what Jaune believed was most likely spite.

What very few knew was that the lieutenant was far from useless.

Lieutenant Arc had gone through ranger training and airborne training, having served in both roles in NATO operations during a two year time span. Some attributed his mere acceptance into the military to the Arc family's long history with the French military and the fact that the lieutenant's uncle was an active duty field marshal. Anyone who chanced a closer look would see that Lieutenant Arc was a dutiful officer with potential, always looking to improve and boasting an impressive military track record.

The aforementioned 'best and brightest' of the US military _didn't_ take a closer look and sent him to take charge of some sleepy post so that he hopefully wouldn't get killed. This was how he ended up on a Huey flying towards a small medical detachment up in the mountains west of Chu Lai, near the village of Tra Bong.

During briefing he was told that he would be working with seven others running an aid station. Casualties would be flown in by helicopter, given some basic ER and trauma care, then shipped out to hospitals in Chu Lai or Danang. Gory work, but predictable work. Not that he would be doing any of the work. He was essentially only there to process paper work, operate the radio, and make sure the whole damn place didn't blow up. Otherwise, there was plenty of cold beer, three hot meals a day, and a tin roof overhead to look forward to.

Speaking of looking, the helicopter was approaching the sleepy post fast. From a distance, Lt Arc could see a compound situated at the top of a flat-crested hill along the northern outskirts of Tra Bong. At one end was a small dirt helipad; at the other end, in a rough semicircle, were the mess hall and medical hootches overlooking the Song Tra Bong river. Flying closer, Lt Arc could finally fully assess the defensive situation of his new post.

Surrounding the place were tangled rolls of razor wire, with bunkers and reinforced firing positions staggered about. Further out he could see thick wilderness to the north and west, triple-canopied jungle, mountains unfolding into higher mountains, ravines and gorges and fast-moving rivers and waterfalls and exotic butterflies and steep cliffs and smoky little hamlets and great valleys of bamboo and elephant grass.

From the few reports he had the chance to read about the place, Lt Arc knew that the place was heavily mined, thick with Bouncing Betties and homemade booby traps. There was virtually no security, seeing as it was being provided by a mixed unit of militia fighters and ARVN infantry. The place had originally been a special forces outpost, reports say six Green Berets still use the place as a base of operations. If he had to guess, he'd say that the last hootch at the edge of the perimeter was where the Green Berets shacked up, but he didn't know for sure.

'Isolated and vulnerable.' Jaune mentally noted as he got off the helicopter. He stood out painfully amongst his new post, dressed in his French "Lizard" pattern camouflage. Walking into the mess hall around noon, he prepared to meet his assigned squad.

The lieutenant had come prepared with a little introduction, a relaxed greeting that would hopefully get everyone to let their guard down.

That all died when he witnessed the scene before him.

"First squad of Aid Station Gator reporting for duty sir!" squeaked a short, young girl. She was dressed in a USMC uniform, had neck length black hair with red tips, and stared back at him with silver eyes. To her right were six more soldiers of varying uniforms, hair color, and eye color. It seemed as if all but one of the soldiers in his squad were female.

"This is going to be an interesting assignment." Jaune muttered to himself.

* * *

**Personally I really like this Vietnam AU, but as always I leave the choice of it becoming a series ultimately up to whoever happens to read this. Gonna update the tags and the description, I think I was bit too harsh on my description of Jaune in the summary. So yeah, teams NPR and RWBY are under Jaune's command. I'll go more into detail about the rest of the squad's nationalities, skills, and general information should it become an actual series. I apologize for any inaccuracies during this story, but I'll admit now that I'm not necessarily aiming for historical accuracy. After all, in many cases a true war story cannot be believed.**

**Until then, tchau tchau.**


	6. Solitas Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years of near complete isolation is rudely interrupted when the past physically and figuratively catches up.

Team RWBY, along with Ren and Nora, boarded a Manta bound for a location identified universally by military personnel as 'A-shack'. Ironwood had explained that the assistance of A-shack's sole occupant was absolutely necessary in order to execute his grand strategy. However, several questions immediately rose up the moment he finished giving the order. Two questions in particular would go unanswered.

Why send a team and a half of hunters to retrieve one person? What is this person's name?

From what they could gather from the little information the general gave them, only a couple of things could be confirmed.

The guy's a huntsman, and he's been working with the general for about two years.

Yang was about to protest further, until Qrow told them to "trust him" and that the request was "perfectly justified". Pair that with a suspicious, maybe even knowing, wink from Qrow and everyone was convinced that whatever was going down at A-shack had to be good.

During the flight to A-shack, Weiss tilted her head to look out the window. True to the intel they had received, the location was far away from any sign of civilization. She watched the Manta's shadow race across an endless sea of snow.

"Geez, who'd want to live all the way out here?" Ruby thought aloud, peering out the window next to her.

Weiss herself pondered over her partner's question before lazily responding with, "Clearly not someone who enjoys peace and quiet. I am surprised that this lone huntsman has not perished yet, living so far beyond the walls of Mantle." Judging by the Rose's conflicted expression, the former heiress knew that the conversation was far from over.

After giving herself a moment to think, the scythe wielder realized something. "Doesn't that just say a lot about the guy's skill?" she countered, "I mean, this guy's been living out in the wilderness by himself for _years_."

"I suppose so..." she sighed. As expected, a flight out to the middle of nowhere was extremely boring. Weiss herself was almost falling asleep when Ruby took hold of her hand. Giving the ice queen's dainty little hand a gentle squeeze, the reaper scooted next to her.

"I know I wouldn't survive two years without you." she whispered, her breath tickling Weiss's ear. Ruby gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then leaned against her partner's shoulder so she could take a nap.

During their travels everyone had, for a lack of better words, got down and dirty with their partner at one point or another. While it came as no surprise that Ren and Nora got together, what had happened in team RWBY was more a mix of genuine love and pleasure seeking. After all, in a battle against the immortal queen of grimm, everyone was desperate for even the smallest bit of respite from the day to day peril they often faced.

This was how Nora ended up asleep with her head in Ren's lap, and how Blake and Yang ended up in a position similar to Weiss and Ruby.

Unfortunately, their temporary rest was quick to end. "Only a short distance away from the LZ, we'll be landing soon." the pilot called from the front.

* * *

The light thump of an aircraft landing outside easily woke him from his light sleep. Staring at the ceiling of his cabin, he thought about why he was getting visitors again. 'Supplies aren't due for a while, so hopefully it's work related. I'm not in the mood to entertain Jimmy's suggestion.' Starting a week prior, he was being relentlessly bugged by Ironwood to assemble a new team. He just couldn't wrap his mind around why anyone would want such a bad leader to march more kids to their deaths.

An orderly, rhythmic knock forced a small amount of urgency through his system. 'Only Winter knocks like that, should probably get out of bed before she kicks my door down... again.' Indeed, when he'd failed to answer the door in a timely manner, the elder Schnee had bust down the door to his humble home and shook him awake just to inform him about a mission.

He slipped out of bed and struggled to tug on a pair of navy blue sweatpants in the shy candle light. "Be out in a sec!" he called to her from his bed side. Rushing to the bathroom, he could never be more thankful for aura. Without it his feet would've been more splinter than flesh due to his habit of walking around barefoot on the poorly maintained wood floor.

He checked his hair and his face. 'A little bit greasy, some stubble, no mustache. Good enough.' he concluded before making his way to the door. He didn't bother putting on a shirt. He had some muscle, sure, but no sane person on Remnant would fuck his scraggly ass unless they were paid a healthy sum of lien. 'Besides, Winter's a professional. She wouldn't give two shits if I showed up to the door nude, it's practically tradition to answer the door like this.' he reassured himself.

Letting out a great yawn, he absentmindedly stuffed his left hand in his pocket while his right hand disengaged a series of locks. Skillfully and speedily unlocking it, he opened the door. As per usual, he covered his eyes, needing a few seconds to adjust to the sudden burst of natural sun light. This scenario had played out enough times that didn't need to see to start the conversation. "Morning mam," he started as he rubbed his eyes, "What's the situation to-" he paused, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

At first he wasn't convinced what he was seeing was real. He quickly rubbed his eyes again and was completely ready to rule himself out as a schizo. Through squinted eyes he confirmed that team RWBY, along with Nora and Ren, were right before his eyes. They were all so different, everything from their appearance to their demeanor had all radically or slightly changed. They seemed just as shocked to see him as he was to see them.

Recovering from the aforementioned shock, his brain registered almost immediately that he was fucked. There was nothing he could do, so he faced his doom head on. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, he went for the comedic approach.

"You're not Winter." Jaune dryly joked, addressing Weiss for the first time in nearly two years.


End file.
